Righteous Side of Hell
by Zarathis Wolfsister
Summary: (spoilers for the new Captain America!) Steve Rogers has gone rogue. Thor is missing. Banner is dead. Stark is just trying to hold it together. Little do all the Avenger's both old on new know that something wicked their way comes. It will not bow to the Sokovia Accord or any authority but its own. The only thing that might cool the flames of insanity in the monster Is Willow.


Disclaimer: I do not own any characters from Buffy, Thor, Ghost Rider or Guardians of the Galaxy. This work of fiction was created solely for entertainment and no monetary gain was made.

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It was a new moon and the absence of stars had rendered the sky days clouds had brooded over the forest. In daylight,the sky was disconsolate. Yet, despite appearance of an impending downpour the forest sat dry as a bone.

Tonight, the land was quiet; begging the stoic sky to unleash its cleansing tears. The only sound was the soft hiss of the remaining leaves on the twisted trees. There were no animal sounds of the forest. It seemed that everyone could feel the desperate pulse of the tainted aura smothering the landscape.

Everyone except the fourteen men and women gathered in the old chapel. In the center of the room stood a eight foot tall cube. The shadowed form of the Device made of thick stone loomed silently with its dimly glowing runes. They were in a language no one alive could ever understand and even the Dark Charter warned of trying to read them. No light passed within the dilapidated building except for these and the mundane flickering of the black candles.

According to the Charter,an ancient document printed on vellum, whatever was in the cube was powerful and could not be destroyed. The text was an obscure one written by a radical priest named Albert Bisset. In the charter , the Device was created to house a darkness so powerful it rivaled that of the Old Gods and went against the teachings of the Christian God. Legend said the cube was created by angels long ago others claimed it was made by powerful sorcerers.

It was obvious that the chapel had once been lavish . Built in the fourteenth century by an unknown stonesmith, from outside the church looked like any other. Gothic in style it bore the huge elongated window spaces of its sisters. Spires rose up to torture the grey sky while crumbling buttresses were succumbing to gravity.

Abandoned soon after it had been built, the structure had fallen into disrepair. The land it sat on once belonged to a king. At the time, the church was supposed to be the religious centerpiece of a new town. But the idea of birthing a new township fell though. Some said it was because the church had been cursed. Word spread of the strange noises that erupted from under the floor and strange beings who loitered in the area. Years went by and it passed into the hands of the nobility where it had been forgotten. Now, it sat lonely in the woods of the Czech republic tended to by an retired couple.

Upon entry the focus was drawn forward and upward. Only it wasn't stained glass windows that called the eye upward.

What drew attention the ceiling was a huge swaying chandelier. About thirty feet in diameter it hung from the roof and moved threateningly in the chill winter wind. The top of the chandelier bore a serpentine and interwoven quality that could have come from deer antlers.

But the bones were not those of a deer. White pelvic bones supported human skulls that dripped with congealed candle wax. A single thick shaft hung in the center of the chandelier where the tiers had been attached with crucifixion-like nails. Draped from the underside of the macabre piece were femurs and arm bones.

Like modern Christmas lights, hundreds of skulls had been linked together with chains to line the ribbed vaulting. The rotten wooden pews lay on sides of the crumbling room where parishioners would have walked to receive the Body of Christ. A whirlwind seemed to have hit the inside of the church as many pews had been broken in half, ends splintered like icicles.

Graffiti marked the destroyed pews and numerous names had been written on the stone by juvenile vandals. Right in front of the altar in direct view of the statue of the Holy Virgin, an upside down five point star had been tauntingly painted. The filthy, blood-encrusted altar sat atop a dais on a circle of black stones in the floor.

It had been the goal of the church's curator's to reinforce the buttresses on the outside and fill in where the roof had fallen in. The illicit writing and markings marring the walls would have been removed too. Plans had been made to at least partially restore the holy space but this was not to be.

The fourteen men and women gathered were cloaked in dark robes with their faces painted grey and a sharp, contrasting black stripe across the eyes. All stood silently as if in prayer but the glowing runes were reflected eerily in their eyes. Eyes that were hungry for power.

It was a look that Jirka Andraska had owned all his life. Jirka couldn't help but muse to himself out loud as he watched the firelight send flickering shadows on the on the face of the Madonna.

"Tonight….will our night." the man smiles with his blacked lips,exposing chipped and crooked teeth. Turning his attention back to the night vision camera that rested on a tripod, he let his sneer fade.

"Is it ready,Jirka?" a voice asked in Czech. The voice was high pitched and carried a hint of annoyance.

Jirka looked up to see his wife standing tall in her own dark robe.

Aneta Andraska was twenty nine years of age and she couldn't help but recoil in disgust at the way her husband regarded her. Like a lost puppy he had followed her after that fateful Black Mass, questioning her endlessly about the Shade. At first, she had thought him to be another amateur. One of the teenagers that frequently attended the Black Masses but were too afraid of the Shade to delve deeper.

That is, she thought he was until he let slip that his last name was Andraska. Andrew Andraska was renowned in the Eastern Europe as a millionaire and Entrepreneur who also happened to be Jirka's father. But the name was the only thing the two men had in common. Where Andrew was tall and muscular, his son was thin and short. It was unknown how well the two got along. The senior Andraska wasn't one to talk about his family life.

But, the moment he had confessed to her his family name, Aneta knew her prayers had been answered. Her research, everything that she had been working toward now had funding. For ten years, she had kept him alive knowing that his presence would benefit her someday. That day was now.

A feminine scream broke out before Jirka could answer and both his and his wife's eyes became glued to a broken beam where a young woman stood tied with her hands above her head. Bruises and cuts were apparent on the girl's pale skin where she had been beaten and pushed. Her dark hair was tangled in knots with sticks and bits of grass mixed in while holes had been torn into her en vogue clothes. A piece of cloth had been tied across her mouth but although she could no longer articulate well, her screams were loud.

The younger Andraska watched as Aneta walked over to the bound woman taking down her hood while she walked. His wife's beautiful,mouse brown hair had been wrestled into a French braid which swung ominously behind her hips.

Aneta walked over to the girl and stood stock still. Jirka knew that look that she was giving the girl. It was a steady,unwavering glare meant to cripple the bravest of God's soldiers. Aneta was an Empath, which was a human gifted with the ability to manipulate emotions.

He sensed that Aneta was using the power of fear and intimidation yet strangely the girl continued to scream louder. This must have angered his wife as she reached out suddenly and gripped the captive girl by the throat.

"Shut. Up." Aneta spat and slammed the girl's head against the broken beam making her fall silent. Aneta left the unconscious form to hang by the wrists.

"It's ready now," Jirka stated and turned on the night vision camera.

When viewing through the camera,it was possible to see the focused look on Aneta's painted face and also those of the others that had gathered.

Jirka could hear the blood pumping in his ears as his wife turned to look directly at the camera and uttered,

"The day is All Hallow's Eve. The year is 1996 and this is attempt one to open the Primordium cube."

Lightning suddenly forked across the sky lighting up the interior of the chapel for a split second and Jirka's eye was drawn to Bartholomew, a tall silent man who held the sacrifice by the back of her neck. He sensed someone behind him and when the chanting started he knew that he was correct from the monotone singing.

Aneta picked up the heavy sword she had stuck into the dirt and pointed it directly at the the chanting,Jirka's ears could hear her powerful voice.

"Hear me,creature! Whoever you are, whatever you are….you are now mine to command."

An eerie creaking spread throughout the room and soon became so earsplitting that it made Aneta pause. It was as if some great weight were settling on the building forcing the rotted boards to creak under the strain. The atmosphere changed as well.

The air became thick and almost tangible as if all were underwater. Breathing became hard as gravity seemed to become stronger. Rain had begun to fall.

"Bring the sacrifices!" Aneta screamed with much effort.

"Sacrifices?" Jirka thought but was instantly caught off guard when a thin knife was brought to his neck.

He looked over to the other side of the room and witnessed the young girl's throat being cut. Aneta,his Aneta, reached into her pouch where she kept her magical stones and withdrew a long dark chain. It twined around her fingers and it took him a second to recognize it as a crucifix.

Aneta began to speak again.

"Gather your strength,Dark One. You will serve me and do my bidding. You. Are. Mine."

"Dearest, what is the meaning of this?"

The man tried to break the hold on him but this only resulted in him being thrown roughly to the ground.

"Aneta!"

She turned and glowered at the man. By now,the wind was blowing but Jirka soon noticed that no rain fell within the chapel and no breeze stirred. Outside, a storm was raging but inside was calm. What was happening?

Suddenly,Jirka felt all of the energy being pulled from him. And with it, went his knowledge of the woman he called wife. The veil had been lifted from his eyes and he saw past her glamour of love and devotion.

She smiled, knowingly and then looked to the man standing above her husband.

"Kill him," she said simply and began to chant.

"No! No!," Jirka cried.

"Aneta, I loved you!"

This didn't seem to shake the priestess at all and she reached forward pressing her hand against the pulsing runes. By now,they were burning a blinding white tinged with blue. Nothing could withstand that heat and his ears were soon ringing with Aneta's scream.

It shouldn't have been like this. Aneta Andraska felt pain and power shoot up her arm into her shoulder from her contact with the Stone Womb. A shockwave of dark energy radiated from her hand within which she gripped the crucifix.

Something stirred within the Cube. Something that should not be. A bloodied and cut hand suddenly reached out of the Cube and gripped her wrist. She screamed in terror and it was then she knew she had played God. Whatever was inside was not meant to walk among men.

The hand gripped her wrist so hard she heard it snap and then all went silent. It was the feeling of being underwater again but she could hear nothing.

"Help me!" she tried to scream but she felt like she was in thick molasses.

Jirka had stumbled back toward the wall and watched in horror while the two men that had been restraining him were turning to run. Then, with a loud rumble of thunder and a flash of blinding light sound ran through Aneta's ears. Her own screams were the last thing she heard .

Darkness swallowed the chapel and Jirka began to fumble with the night vision camera.

"Aneta! Bartholomew!" There was no answer save for the screams of the remaining coven members. Sounds like Jirka had never imagined came from the dark. A screaming like metal being twisted and bent in unnatural ways was only matched by the crunching and snapping of bone.

"Help me!" he screamed and clambered to his feet keeping the camera in front of him. Out of the darkness, he could see Aneta standing idly. Her eyes were blank and she mumbled something.

"Dearest, we have to leave! Come on." He went to grab her wrist but she was sucked back into the darkness. He didn't even hear her scream but rather the breaking of her bones.

Jirka stood frozen to the spot. Warmth trickled down his leg as he had lost control of his bladder. Something cluttered to the dirt floor and Jirka thought it was someone walking forward. Raising the camera to his face he could see it was a spine.

An unearthly scream rang through the night and the camera shut off.


End file.
